Be A Man
by Peregrine Williams
Summary: Eh heh… long story short: watching Hetalia/Disney AMVs, saw some done to Mulan songs, roles fit perfectly, 2:00 am inspiration attack, write Hetalia fanfiction inspired by Mulan plotline. PruHun!
1. Chapter 1

(( So yeah… long story short: watching Hetalia/Disney AMVs, saw some done to Mulan songs, roles fit perfectly, 2:00 am inspiration attack, write Hetalia fanfiction inspired by Mulan plotline. Focus is more on the actual character-ness than country representations, just so you know. No real pairing atm, though I might be able to fit in some PruHun later on? Only if it works… hey look it's a fanfic with no fanservice what is that even. Also historical inaccuracies and being unoriginal. Rated… T? For violence and innuendos when France shows up? Upcoming characters: Hungary, Austria, Russia, Prussia, France, Germany, Spain… maybe Belarus and others. All human names used.))

((Je peux aussi le traduire si quelqu'un le veut en français.))

* * *

><p>Elizaveta heard the door slam hard, echoing around the usual uninterrupted – save for instrumental – silence of the neat house. She laid her broom against the wall and moved towards the doorway. Roderich was sitting very still on his piano bench, elbows on the key cover, head in his hands, eyes squeezed shut. A sheet of paper lay haphazardly in the middle of the floor, extremely unusual for someone such as Roderich.<p>

Elizaveta moved to pick it up, willing her heels to not click across the hardwood floor.

"Eliza…" His voice thick with anguish, the Austrian ran his fingers through his hair. "What do I do?"

She skimmed the document, then looked up to stare at him. His eyes rose to meet hers, confusion and anxiety, desperate for a solution.

"But… but… you can't be thinking of going along with this?" she protested, crinkling the paper where she held it.

"Don't you see, Eliza? I don't have a choice! If I don't go voluntarily, they'll storm the house and drag me to the front!" He stood abruptly and began to pace the length of his piano.

"You can't go to war! You can't fight! You'll be killed the first battle!" She crushed the rest of the paper in her fist. Perhaps she was speaking out of turn, but she was too angry right now to care.

Roderich paused momentarily in his pacing, then resumed. "Normally I would be somewhat offended by your lack of faith in me, though under the circumstances I would have to agree that no, I am in no way a skilled combatant. However, as I have said, it is neither your nor my decision to make. I must report to the German training camp by noon tomorrow or…" He sighed and stopped to look at her again. "More than that, I have a responsibility to my people. If I don't fight for them, who will?"

She chewed the inside of her lip and sat down on the bench, not meeting his eyes. She hated it when he made sense, which was most of the time. "You shouldn't have to go. There are plenty of other nations to fight for Germany."

He sat down beside her. "Apparently there aren't. There is no one else Elizaveta. I'm sorry, but I'll be leaving in the morning."

* * *

><p>Elizaveta plucked furiously at the weeds in the front flowerbed, probably doing more harm than good, as only the leaves came off in her anxious hands.<p>

Roderich wouldn't last ten minutes on the battlefield, of that she was sure. He was an artist, one whose hands were made for holding a violin, not a sword. It was absurd.

_I_ could probably do better than him, she mused, thinking back to her days as a nomad. But no, she had become everything Roderich had wanted her to be when they became partners: ladylike, elegant, gentle… submissive… Was she really like that though? She put on a pretty good show of it. Had the old days of growing up believing she was a boy and fighting for survival every day really leave her for good? She was safe with Roderich. Roderich had done so much for her. There was no reason for her to fight anymore…

Except now there was. There _was_ someone else to fight for him. She couldn't let him just go off to get killed. She dropped the weeds and stood, making her decision. She didn't care if Roderich hated her for this. If doing what he had refused of her for so many years saved his life, it was worth it.

… Right?

She entered the house and stopped to peer around a doorway when she heard a strange sound. Roderich was there, back to the door, dressed up in his old military uniform. He was standing very still, inspecting the long, sharp object lying in his hands, looking very out of place.

He took the hilt and extended his arm, the polished metal glinting in the evening light streaming through the large widows. He sliced it down suddenly, parried, thrusted, twirled it in his wrist. He wielded it beautifully, but very unlike a weapon. There was no strength behind his false blows, focused as he was on grace and accuracy. He could have been holding a violin bow. The first counterblow would send it flying from his thin hands.

She leaned back against the wall, out of view. Perhaps he could learn. Perhaps he could become stronger in time for the battle. How long was it until that? And even if he did learn, become stronger, somehow survive, would he ever be able to return to the artist he once was, his hands now callused and tainted with blood? Assuming, again, that he came back.

She ducked past the door into the bathroom and locked herself in. Her hand rested on the doorknob for a moment before she turned to the mirror. Filled with a resolve she hadn't felt in years, her sweet, soft face and frilled dress suddenly seemed very foreign to her. She inspected herself thoroughly before reaching up to take the flower from her hair and wiping off her makeup. She washed her lips to make them as pale as possible and rubbed at her eyebrows. Reaching into the cupboards under the sink, she pulled out some extra bandages, then took off her dress to bind her chest. Reaching into a drawer, she took out a pair of scissors and held them to her scalp. She hesitated.

It had taken years to grow her hair to this length. Roderich loved it. Loved when they danced and twirled and it flowed like ribbons after her. Should she really do this? Roderich was her best friend… her partner…

But that was exactly why she had to do it. She snapped the blades closed. A long strand of her silky chestnut-brown hair drifted to the ground. She snipped again and again, the locks forming a pile at her feet. Glancing again at the mirror, the face there suddenly looked much more familiar. An old confidence that had for so long lain dormant rose in her once again. She kicked off her high heels and stripped herself of rings and necklaces.

"Elizaveta?" a voice called from the hall. She froze.

"Y-yes?"

"I'll be going to bed now. I cleaned up the rest of the dishes, so get a good rest and hopefully I'll be able to see you in the morning before I leave."

"Alright," she called through the door. She listened to his footsteps recede and quickly set to cleaning up the hair.

She opened the door a crack to peer out into the hallway. Seeing it deserted, she tiptoed to the room where Roderich had just been practicing. His uniform _was_ there, folded neatly beside his scabbard on the side table. She slipped it on and fastened the belt. It was a little long, but it didn't look too bad considering. She took the scabbard and clipped it to her belt as well, then snuck past Roderich's room into her own to grab the essentials.

The horse's head rose as she entered the stables, snorting loudly. She rushed over to pet its nose and it calmed, recognizing her scent. It waited patiently as she lifted the saddle onto its back and fastened the bridle and reigns.

She had just mounted when the door opened.

"E-Elizaveta… I heard…" They both froze, staring at each other. Roderich's expression changed from shock to disbelief, registering the uniform and the hair.

Elizaveta recovered first. She tore her eyes away, kicking open the gate and clicking her tongue. The horse sped off immediately, dashing out of the stable and down the main path.

She heard him call out her name, all confusion and pain. She did not look back, her eyes starting moisten. Roderich wouldn't come after her. He knew what this meant, and if anyone found out she could be tried for treason, impersonating a national representative.

"I'm sorry!" she yelled desperately, loud enough to carry. She repeated it a few more times, getting quieter and quieter until it was no more than a whisper drowned in the cacophony of galloping hooves.

* * *

><p>A tall, silver haired man stood on a ridge, the mild snowstorm whipping at his long coat. His pale violet eyes scanned the landscape before him, an indentation in the white monotony, packed with a thousand of his men.<p>

"The German Empire believes that it can take over the world," Ivan spoke in a low voice that nevertheless was carried downwind across his army, smiling faintly. "The German Empire believes it can defeat Mother Russia."

A mocking laughter spread through the crowd and the soft smile widened. Ivan waited patiently for it to die down before continuing.

"Well. There's only one way for them to prove that, isn't there?" He turned, now speaking over his shoulder. "Let's go meet them, shall we? Play their little game."

A wild cheer rang out and the army marched.


	2. Chapter 2

((Decided that this will be PruHun but not predominantly so. Mleh, nothing super-exciting happens in this chapter. Mostly set up for things to come. Also typo correction and feedback plz. France is there because it was taken over by Germany, Spain… has no real reason to be there but I wanted the Trio so I'm playing the artistic license card.))

* * *

><p>Elizaveta woke to crows chattering loudly in the early morning light. Sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she touched her hair again. It was so short… The back of her neck felt uncomfortably exposed. She shook her head to clear the rest of her drowsiness and set to binding her chest once more.<p>

Getting dressed, she rolled up her sleeping bag and exited the tent. Now she could see the training camp clearly in the valley below her, as it had been dark when she had arrived. There were many tents already set up, though it was still a few hours before noon.

She packed the rest of her supplies onto her horse, then untied it from the tree and mounted. She took a deep breath and clicked her tongue. The horse started down the steep incline. Now suddenly nervous, she ran through a list in her mind, correcting herself as she approached the camp.

Shoulders back, sit up straight, chin up, hips forward, exude confidence bordering on arrogance, move ungracefully, show no weakness, flowers are for stepping on, puppies are for training to kill, muscles are for flexing, anything frilly is-

"Sir!" the guard at the entrance called to her. She urged the horse to trot over. _I am a man. I am a man. I am a man._

"Name please?" the guard asked, eyeing her up and down, fingers poised to flip through a stack of papers in one hand.

She checked her voice to make sure it sounded low enough. "Roderich Edelstein," she said confidently.

He searched through and checked off the name. "Very well Mr. Edelstein. You may set up your tent wherever there is space."

She nodded and clicked again, bringing the horse to trot along the rows of tents. She should probably choose a spot a little off from the rest so there was less of a chance of being disturbed at an… inopportune moment.

Finding one, she dismounted and set to unpacking, letting out a sigh of relief. She had made it in without a hitch. She tried to relax. Why was she so tense? She had done this before. She had believed it wholeheartedly for her entire childhood. Shaking herself out again, she finished setting up and froze when she heard an obnoxious, strangely familiar laugh.

"Kesesesesese!"

She stood, not daring to move for a moment. No… It could not possibly… There was no way…

But who else laughed like _that_?

She turned slowly and peered around another tent. Three men walked down one of the rows, looking delighted with themselves and generally up to no good.

One of them had white hair.

It could not be a coincidence. How many albinos were there her age in Germany? How many albinos laughed like _that_?

She felt her heart drop to her stomach. If he recognized her…

Suddenly they turned. Her stomach clenched in panic. She tried to walk back to her tent inconspicuously.

"Hey you!" She reluctantly turned to see the three of them approaching fast. There was no getting out of this now.

"Haven't seen you around here before. Are you new?" the brunette asked in a reasonably friendly manner.

She tried not to stare at the albino, but she was relieved to see that his face had changed greatly since she had last seen him. His jaw was much more angular, his cheeks shallow, his nose longer… if he hadn't been albino, she probably wouldn't have recognized him at all. She hoped her own face had changed as much.

She cleared her voice and stood tall. "Yes, I just got here. I'm Roderich."

The blond seized her hand and shook it with both of his. "Salut, mon ami. I am Francis, and this is Gilbert and Antonio." He gestured to each of them in turn. "Now, we were wondering if you would be able to help us with something."

Gilbert smirked and hissed his laugh again. At least he hadn't seemed to find her familiar. She suddenly remembered how much of a jerk he used to be.

"Help you?"she asked apprehensively. "With what?"

Francis came around to drape his arm across her shoulders, his face very close to her ear. "You see, we have a certain article in our possession that someone else would very much like to get their hands on."

"Namely mienen bruder," Gilbert said, grinning broadly. "And we would like to keep it out of his hands. At least until we have a chance to make copies." He laughed again. "So how about it Roddy? Think you could hold on to it for us a while?"

"Who is your broth-"

"GILBERT!"

They all jumped. Antonio shoved a rectangular object into her hands and the three of them bolted down another row of tents, laughing maniacally.

Elizaveta stood dumbstruck, clutching the object to her chest as a very tall, very muscular blond man stormed furiously into view.

He stopped dead when he caught sight of her, then marched over. She took in his uniform in an instant. It was covered with medals. He was obviously a general.

She fumbled with the object – which she now noticed was a journal – and held it out to him hastily.

"I- I didn't… they just-"

"I don't vant to hear it, soldier!" He snatched the journal from her hands. "Drop and give me fifty!"

She obeyed immediately, hands in the grass and dirt, straining her arms to lift her body. Up, down, up, down, up, down… This was much harder than she remembered.

She felt him drop to his knees beside her and growl in her ear.

"Vich way did they go?"

She paused momentarily to point. "That way, sir!"

He nodded and stood. "Continue."

She carried on even after he had marched out of sight. This was definitely not a man to mess with.

Her first day. _Her first day_ and she had already ended up on the wrong side of her commanding officer. She gritted her teeth. It was all because of those three, picking on the new recruits. They _knew_ that she would get caught, if not that quickly.

Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty. She collapsed to lay on the ground for a while.

… Was that really Gilbert's brother? She vaguely remembered a little blond boy, a few years younger than Gilbert and herself, barely able to speak and running around with the German Shepherds. … Ludwig, was it? _He_ had certainly grown. Become quite successful too. What had happened to Gilbert? He hadn't seemed very high in rank. She was surprised momentarily – he had always loved to fight – but then realized it was probably due to his lack of responsibility and general laziness, at least for anything that didn't include weapons and thrills.

A trumpet sounded. She supposed it was a call for the first training session. She stood reluctantly and followed the sound, merging with a group of other soldiers as they gathered around what appeared to be the command tent.

She caught sight of Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio, and grinned when she saw how they were rubbing their arms and walking awkwardly. At least Ludwig had found them alright.

"At attention men! Form up!" she heard him bellow over the crowd.

The trainees gradually positioned themselves into a straight line facing the command tent. Ludwig marched down the row, casually smacking anyone who wasn't standing straight with the crop he carried in one hand.

"Sloppy! All of you!" he growled, enunciating the last word with a particularly hard smack to Francis.

He paused in front of Elizaveta, who was by now standing as erect as she possibly could, her eyes level and her expression solemn, hoping not to be noticed. The general peered down at her, and she braced for his crop.

"Your name, soldier."

She blinked and forced herself to keep her eyes straight. "Roderich Edelstein, sir!"

He looked at her for a moment, then continued down the line. "Good man. Carry on."

She gave a quiet sigh of relief and glared at the three troublemakers, who she now noticed were glaring right back at her. They had probably figured that she had ratted them out.

Ludwig finished his round and now moved to face them all. "All right men, you are the future of the German army. Listen up, because I will not be repeating myself.

"GILBERT SHUT UP AND GET BACK IN LINE.

"You will report here every morning at oh-six-hundred hours sharp when the trumpet sounds and receive breakfast. You will have exactly ten minutes to eat and then form up as such. We will then commence daily warm-ups followed by training exercises. You will wear the clothing provided instead of your uniform while training. After lunch you will have another exercise and then be free to rest for the evening. There will be absolutely no skipping or all-nighters, and no one is to be out of their tent past twenty-two-hundred hours. Anyone who does otherwise will answer to me.

"Am I understood?"

There was a general noise of agreement.

"I said UNDERSTOOD?" He smacked the crop down on his opposite palm.

"YES SIR."

"Now, everyone has exactly ten minutes to get changed. We are going for a run."


	3. Chapter 3

((OKAY DONE YAY. So this is my headcanon that France is awesome with a rapier. He's not that strong, but he can use leverage to make up for it, as well as knowing all the weak points, and can anticipate your moves. It killed me to have to write Hungary as not-so-manly at the beginning of this. But yay for awkward bath scene. As always, typo correction and feedback plz.))

* * *

><p>General Beilschmidt's idea of a 'run' turned out to be very different from Elizaveta's. She hefted the sack of potatoes a bit higher on her back and tried to pick up the pace. They were jogging up the steep incline where she had camped the night before, and her calves were on fire. She had thought that the dancing would have at least kept her in pretty good shape, but she was simply not used to carrying heavy loads like this, and she had already lagged to a permanent position at the back of the group.<p>

She caught sight of a flash of white and groaned inwardly. The three idiots were slacking in pace to fall into step with her. She held her head high and stared straight ahead, ignoring her calves to walk as purposefully as possible.

"Hey Roddy," Gilbert said, supposedly menacingly. She rolled her eyes.

"Monsieur, it seems that you didn't keep our little secret," Francis remarked, sounding disappointed.

"Si, we got into quite a bit of trouble for it." Antonio rubbed his arm again.

Elizaveta was at least happy to notice how out of breath they sounded. "As you should," she shot back, refusing to look at them. "Brother or not, he's your commanding officer."

Gilbert snorted. "So you're just a boring goody-goody as well as a snitch. Oops!" He supposedly faltered in step and his potato sack slammed into her own. She lost balance and almost fell over under the misplaced weight.

They laughed and continued on up the rise. She regained her footing and marched after them, where Ludwig was now ordering them to drop their sacks and line up.

"Our first training exercise will be an assessment of your skills in close combat." The general picked up the two sacks he had been carrying and dumped their contents in a pile at his feet. "These are your weapons. They are blunted for now so that you don't dismember one another in your clumsiness. I expect that you maintain and sharpen your _own_ swords every day.

"Now, you will choose a sword, turn to a partner, and spar. If you are hit in a critical area or lose your weapon, you are dead and will move to the path here, where you will practice with the other Schwächlinge. The victors will spar with eachother until there is one left. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

Elizaveta added her sack to the pile gratefully. Rolling her shoulders, she joined the rest of the group to take a sword. The blunted weapon was awkward in her hand, feeling only vaguely familiar. She swung it back and forth, trying to regain her balance. The majority of the others were already sparring. She looked around for anyone free, and cringed when her eyes locked with Francis'. Keeping eye contact with her, he dispatched his opponent, striking a swift blow to his side underneath his arm. He doubled over and Francis strode past, whipping his strangely thin sword down, then up to his face.

"And you, monsieur?" he said with a sly grin. "How is your skill with a blade?"

Elizaveta lifted her sword slowly to the ready position, watching him warily. The metal flashed and she caught it, barely, before it struck her in the hip. She pushed it away and slashed up to his shoulder. He flicked it aside easily.

She quickly lost her breath as they sparred, tired as she was from the hike. Francis remained with a calm smile, blocking her every blow, though she could see a bit of sweat on his brow.

"Interesting," he mused, finally twisting the sword from her grasp. "It seems as though you know all the moves, perhaps even more so than myself, yet your execution is lacking. You were very skilled at one time, non?"

She panted, moving to pick up her sword. "I haven't held one in years, but yes, I suppose you could say that."

"Ah oui? Then there is much hope for you." He walked past her, smacking her on the knee with the flat side of his sword. "You just need to remember."

* * *

><p>Elizaveta flopped exhausted onto her sleeping bag. Her muscles ached all over. She had just wolfed down her dinner – mashed potatoes and meatloaf – so quickly it was painful. It had been the longest, hardest day of her life and she was beginning to have second thoughts.<p>

Could she really continue like this? Was it even possible for her? Ludwig's training was hard enough on its own, but now that Trio was fighting her every step of the way, always making sure she came in last, had the worst equipment, got the least food... especially that Gilbert, who made sure to stick his leg out every time she walked by.

She rolled over and started to massage her feet. The simple fact was that no matter how hard she tried, she was _not_ a man. She couldn't just...

She mentally slapped herself. What was she saying? She could do anything a man could do. She was Hungarian. She could do anything _better_ than that albino idiot.

She lifted herself to a push-up position despite the protests of her sore limbs. She forced herself through another round of fifty, then strapped her sword to her belt and left the tent. Jogging once around the camp, receiving a few confused looks from other exhausted trainees, she continued further out in the small valley and found a pond just within a grove of trees. Relieved, she paused for a moment to dip her weary feet in the cool water.

She wandered around to find a soft, rotting stump and unsheathed her sword. She swung it around to embed it in the wood. Pulling the blade free, she hacked at it again and again. Wood chips flew and her arm tightened, testing the weight at every angle, twisting and strengthening her wrist, trying desperately to remember the details of her techniques. Repeating the patterns that had been second nature to her as a child, her aching arm gradually started to recognize the movements. Her blows became stronger and more precise until finally, with a last dull _thunk_, the stump splintered and broke in half.

She stood there for a full five minutes, breathing heavily, blade still at the ready. Her heartbeat slowed and she came to, replacing the sword in her scabbard and walking slowly back to her tent to collapse.

* * *

><p>Elizaveta jerked awake at the sounding of the trumpet. She groaned as she sat up, though she wasn't as sore as she thought she'd be. Maybe it would be worse the next day. She sighed and stretched herself out as much as possible before re-binding herself and getting dressed. The 'training uniform' was no more than a black sleeveless top and a pair of long sturdy pants she would tuck into her boots. She had to be careful to not let her bandages show.<p>

She headed off to breakfast, bringing her sword along to sharpen after the beating she had given it yesterday.

As the day progressed, her confidence only grew. She succeeded in avoiding and attempted shenanigans by the Three Idiots, once even skipping deftly out of the way of another incoming potato sack at the last second. Having not anticipated the lack of a barrier, the albino had been carried past her with the momentum to fall flat on his face in the dirt, much to the amusement of the other two. She had even managed, after a long, tiring duel, to outlast Francis in their daily sparring practices, finally seeing him slip and landing a blow to his ribs. Gilbert quickly beat her after that however, determined as he was to make up for his earlier embarrassment.

She would get him yet. She vaguely recognized some of his style from when they were kids, and she had always beaten him then.

After dinner that day, sweaty and stinky from Ludwig's training, she took a trip to the pond she had found the day before. Making sure that there was no one else around and trees blocked her view of the camp, she undressed and waded into the cool water. It soothed her aching muscles nicely and she let herself relax and drift a while before starting to scrub at her scalp. Though she missed her long hair, she had to admit that it was much more convenient this way. Being even shorter than she had had it in her nomadic days, she didn't have to worry about it getting tangled or matting.

She was jerked violently out of her respite by the snap of a branch, followed by more rustling and voices. She sunk down up to her nose, relieved that it was now dark enough that the water was hard to see through. She tried to make her way over to hide behind a partially submerged rock, scolding herself for staying so long.

The voices reached the edge of the pond and she finally recognized who they belonged to. Of _course_ it was those three. Why would it be anyone else? Maybe they were just stopping by and in a minute they would-

_Splash_.

Of course.

She desperately tried to stay on the opposite side of the rock as they came splashing and shoving each other to the middle of the pond.

"Hey look, it's Roddy!"

She flinched and sunk lower into the water, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and turning to face them. Why was this happening to her? What did she do to deserve this? Why did they have to be _naked_? Why did-

They were moving towards her.

"Uh... hey. I was just actually finishing up here, and I'm... I'm pretty tired, so I'll just be going now and-"

"It's okay, we're not going to do anything to you," Gilbert sneered.

_Oh please don't notice anything oh please oh please oh please-_

"We were actually just regretting our actions towards you earlier," Francis said smoothly. "Perhaps we started off on the wrong foot."

"You seem like you're not half bad," Antonio smiled, "and you can give Gilbert a run for his money."

The albino shoved him underwater while Francis continued.

"So, mon ami, if you're willing to start over..." he offered his hand, cocking his head to the side slightly.

Elizaveta stared at it for a second. She didn't want to be naïve, but they actually sounded sincere this time. Besides, if she refused, they would just make life that much harder for her. She weighed the options, then tentatively extended her arm.

His grin widened and he shook once, then turned and clapped his hands together. "Good then, proper introductions are in order this time." Elizaveta noticed that there was thin blond hair on his chest that matched the ones on his chin. _Stop staring_. She was glad the water was deep enough to-

He turned back to her and bowed. "I am Francis Bonnefoy, of France."

"I'm... Roderich Edelstein, of H-_Austria_."

"Ah, Austrian... Interesting."

The brunette managed to break free and waded over to stand beside Francis. "I'm Antonio Fernandez, of Spain."

"And I am the _awesome_ Gilbert Beilschmidt of Prussia." She averted her eyes as she saw him start to climb up on the rock. She wondered how they had all become friends, being from such different countries that, until recently, had been enemies.

But now she really had to get out of here before she slipped up. Gilbert was still standing up there, going on about how great he was and how the four of them would be able to take over the world.

Keeping her eyes on the other two, who were rolling their eyes, she laid her hand on the rock and moved it upward until she brushed his foot. He stopped mid-sentence as she grabbed him by the ankle and tugged, sending him sprawling forward into a painful sounding semi-belly-flop. Francis and Antonio roared with laughter and she used the cover of the resulting splash to get to the reeds at the shore.

Wrapping her clothes quickly around herself, she ran back to her tent, failing to suppress a grin. She wondered how Gilbert would try to get her back tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

((Sorry for the wait, I had a bit of a writer's block but luckily I was able to get over it relatively quickly. In compensation this chapter is a bit longer than the others. Also Russians and BFT shenanigans and bienenstich and a Pruhun moment yaaaaaay. And me trying to psychoanalyze a two-dimensional character weee. Typo correction and feedback plz.))

* * *

><p>It turns out that Elizaveta didn't have to wait long at all for Gilbert's retaliation: about five minutes after she woke up. She had just finished dressing and stepped out of her tent for breakfast to see him standing there, in one hand the lead rope of her mare, in the other a crop. She stopped dead, taking in what he was about to do, then leapt for him.<p>

It was too late. He unclipped the rope and smacked the crop down hard on the horse's rear. It whinnied in surprise and bolted out of the camp grounds. Elizaveta dashed after it, the obnoxious laughter sounding out behind her.

* * *

><p>How did they talk her into this? Yes, it was pretty harmless, but she had just been berating them for stealing from their superior officer and now… now it was the next evening and she was sneaking between tents with a cup of freshly caught tadpoles. They probably wanted to make sure that she was trustworthy, a kind of initiation.<p>

She paused to peer over the tops of the tents, looking for blond hair… he was the tallest… there! She ducked back down and made her way over.

Approaching the command tent, she was suddenly pulled back from behind. She managed not to make a noise, though she was terrified of it being Ludwig. She turned frantically. It was just his brother. She jerked away and hissed angrily. "What did you do that for? I could have given us away!"

"You would have given us away if you had gone any further," he hissed back. "Bruder is right there!"

They both ducked down as they saw him come around the bend, listening to his heavy boots pass by and… was he singing?

"_Deutschland, Deutschland über alles, Über alles in der Welt, Wenn es stets zu Schutz und Trutze Brüderlich zusammenhält..._"

He had a nice voice. Who would have thought?

They peered over the tent when they could no longer hear him, making sure he was really gone.

"…Thank-you."

He grunted. "You owe me. You wouldn't have been able to just snitch on us if he had caught you doing the sneaking."

A blond head popped around the other side of the tent, followed by a brunette. "He is gone, oui? Did you get the little frogs?"

She nodded and held out the cup. Antonio took it from her and slunk away towards the supply tent. She was surprised.

"I thought you were going to make me do it."

"Nah," Gilbert said as he fiddled with his boots, not altogether ungrudgingly. "You're one of us now. We split the work so we can split the blame whe- _if_ we get caught."

Elizaveta wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.

"Clear! _Allez-y!_" Francis hissed. Gilbert grabbed her roughly by the arm and dashed to the command tent, ducking quickly inside the flap.

She jerked away again, rubbing her arm. "What are we doing _now?_"

"Phase two." He stood and looked around the surprisingly spacious office-like area. It might have something to do with how uncluttered it was. Gilbert set to flipping through a stack of files.

Elizaveta examined the good-sized meeting table in the middle, which was covered to the edges with a terrain map that stretched from France to Russia. Small, multicoloured figurines represented the locations of the massing armies. A chill ran through her as she noticed how very close the Russians were. They may be needed soon. She had almost forgotten the actual purpose for being here other than for Roderich's sake.

"Would you mind letting me in on what you're planning to do?" she asked, turning back to Gilbert.

He lifted the stack of files he had been flipping through… and dumped them haphazardly across the floor. Elizaveta stared.

"We're going to mess up his office of course." He kicked a few sheets aside, making sure they hadn't fallen in order. "Organization is very important to bruder. If he comes in to see it like this, he will not stop until everything has been put back in its proper place." He laughed and continued, grinning. "Which buys us plenty of time for phase three. Now come help me." He turned back to the desk and started rummaging through a drawer.

Elizaveta moved to another stack of papers apprehensively. She liked being organized too; she _was_ the one that kept Roderich's house spotless after all. "Are you sure that he-"

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Come on, you have to loosen up. This is going to be _awesome_. And, if you cared to notice, we're not breaking anything or causing permanent damage. We're just stalling. Now get to work."

She supposed that what he said was true, though she still didn't like it. Setting to de-alphabetizing the stack, she noticed an abundance of a particular kind of letter.

"Who is this… Feliciano?"

He was at her side in an instant, scanning the letter over her shoulder.

"Kesesesesese! I knew it! I knew he was still keeping tabs on the little weakling!" He searched the pile for more. "Spread these out on the desk, like they've obviously been read. That'll get him riled up."

She wondered why on Earth they would want to get the muscular German more 'riled up,' but did as she was told. She tried to conserve a little of his privacy by not actually reading through anything, though she caught snippets… which looked somewhat familiar in writing style. It couldn't be the same Feliciano she had taken care of as a child… could it? _That_ would be a coincidence. He must be quite grown up now, but at least it seemed he was happy from what she saw, though he missed Ludwig a lot.

She heard a less-than-controlled _crash_ and turned to see Gilbert standing stock still with a pile of books at his feet. His eyes were wide, staring at the piece of paper in his hands. The little pigment he had in his face from his blood had drained, making him look ghostly.

She rushed over. "What? What is it? What's wrong?" His expression scared her, whatever it was. Horror? Fear? Shock?

He flinched away and cleared his throat, hurriedly folding the paper and shoving it in his pocket before she caught a glimpse of it. "It's nothing. Nothing's wrong." His face rearranged itself back into its usual smirk, though she could tell it took effort. "Come on, let's finish this up before Fr-"

They both froze as they heard voices just outside. One of them was Francis, and it seemed as though he was distracting a guard into not walking past the tent just yet. Elizaveta dashed to the flap and peered out carefully. She could see Francis' back, but luckily he was keeping the guard out of sight around the corner. His annoyance with the blonde's refusal to let him pass was growing however, and he seemed about to push past him and give punishments.

She gestured hurriedly to Gilbert and they slipped out and around to the other side of the tent. Francis joined them a few moments later, flustered but seemingly unscathed. Apparently his smooth talking had freed him of further suspicion.

"_Venez_. We have to meet up with Toni."

* * *

><p>Antonio was waiting behind the supply tent. He had made a cut in the back, just big enough to slip through.<p>

"Rod, go be a lookout. Watch Luddy's tent too for when he comes back."

She hesitated. "Alright." Exactly what they were planning on doing in there would become obvious soon enough, so she decided to not press them for details at the moment. She watched out of the corner of her eye as they disappeared, scanning over the tops of the tents for any guards.

After a few minutes she caught sight of blond, streaked back hair and ducked down hurriedly. A roar of outrage quickly followed.

She backed down against the tent and hissed through the flap. "I think he saw his office."

Gilbert poked his head through. "It's okay, we got what we came for."

He handed her a box and went back for another. Francis and Antonio came out with their own boxes and the four of them ran out to the lake, carefully out of view of the camp.

Setting down their boxes, they took a seat in the grass. Elizaveta leaned back against a tree, slowing her heart rate. "So… what's in here anyways?" she asked, unfolding the flaps.

"Bienenstich!" Gilbert said excitedly, tearing open his own box. Francis and Antonio looked confused at the not altogether friendly-sounding name, until they saw what was inside.

"It's… it's a cake!" Antonio exclaimed happily.

Elizaveta watched as the Prussian wolfed down the contents of his box in less than two minutes. She ripped off a piece of her own and popped it in her mouth. It seemed to be a white cake with whipped cream at the center, topped with a layer of honey and ground almonds. She quickly ripped off another chunk.

Five minutes later they were all spread-eagled on the grass, patting their full stomachs and speculating about what horrible punishment Ludwig would give them tomorrow whe- _if_ he found out it was them.

* * *

><p>"Brother."<p>

Ivan jumped slightly, but recovered and hid his dislike. "Yes Natalia?" He always had to be wary of his sister, but she was a valuable asset and the more allies he had, the better.

Right?

"The primary German forces have gathered in the town just beyond the next ridge. We have captured a scout, but he will not give any further information."

"Good, good. Take me to him."

He followed her out of his tent and into another, pulling his scarf up on his face against the wind-chill. Lit by a single, small lamp was a man kneeling on the bare ground, head bent low. Thick ropes bound his arms to heavy metal stakes nailed into the ground on either side. His skin was littered with gashes, bruises, and burns.

Ivan bent down to his eye level. "Hello, comrade. It seems as though you are not very open to speaking with us."

The German raised his piercing blue eyes. His voice was slurred with barely controlled pain, but surprisingly strong. "I vill tell you nozzing!" He coughed a bit, a tendril of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth.

Ivan cocked his head to the side. "That's disappointing. We are very accepting, you know. You need only say the word and you can join us, fight for Mother Russia, be free, da?"

The German wrestled with his bonds, then looked up again, and spat in his face. "Never, _kommunistischen __Schwein_."

Natalia stepped forward immediately, but Ivan held out an arm. He calmly rose and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Alright." Turning on his heel, he exited the tent. Natalia followed closely.

He walked back to his own tent, calling to her over his shoulder absentmindedly. "Tell the men to take the town tomorrow."

"And the scout, brother?"

"He is not one to break. Kill him."

* * *

><p>Heading back to her tent the next day, Elizaveta heard two very loud, very angry voices. She took a detour and stood on her toes to see over the tents, spotting white head and a very tall blond one. Before she got close enough to make out their words, Ludwig turned on his heel and marched away.<p>

She watched Gilbert stand there for a moment, then storm off towards the lake. After a moment's hesitation, she followed. She caught sight of his white hair again as she made her way out of the camp, sitting on the shore with his back against a tree, ripping out blades of grass with one hand absentmindedly. His eyes were on the ground, but unfocused, frowning and obviously deep in thought. She had never seen him like this before.

"Gilbert?"

He looked up and his expression changed immediately to his usual smirk.

"Oh hey, Roderich. Got some big plans for tomorrow night, hey?" he laughed.

Elizaveta sat down against the other side of the tree and started pulling at the grass herself. "You don't have to do that, you know."

She heard him stop picking momentarily. "Do what?"

She hesitated, searching for the right words. "What you just did when you saw me. You had an argument, and now you're acting like nothing happened. You don't have to… be happy and confident all the time I mean."

There was no sound from the other side of the tree for a long while. Maybe she had said too much. She suddenly remembered that guys rarely ever talked about their feelings, and mentally slapped herself. She must sound like such a-

"Ludwig wants me to take charge and control my 'idiot friends.' To stop playing around and 'grow up.'" He picked at the grass again.

She was shocked at his response at first, then tried to take it in. Gilbert was the older brother, and must have had a lot more responsibility when they were younger, as she remembered hardly ever seeing their parents around. Maybe this charade of 24/7 self-confidence was at least partially for the benefit of Ludwig when they were kids, someone strong and self-assured for him to look up to in the absence of a parental figure, though he was only a child himself. When Ludwig grew up and no longer needed him… Had he become so used to showing no fear for his brother that he couldn't turn it off, and now just used it to mask his emotions? Had all of this been for Ludwig? If so, hearing Ludwig tell him to 'grow up' must have hit him pretty hard. She had never given it much thought before.

She tried to lighten the mood. "Become boring, you mean?"

He gave a snort. "Pretty much."

She put her head back against the tree. "If you want my advice, I'd say that you should do whatever feels good to you, and not care what others say. My… roommate always wanted me to be very la-_gentlemanly_," she caught herself, "in every way, and I went along with it for years just to please him. I came to realize though, that if you're not free to be yourself, you'll never feel truly happy, even when your goal is to make someone else happy.

"I'm sure he just cares about you," she added, "but he should learn to accept you too, and you could both try to compromise."

Gilbert was quiet for a moment, then started laughing.

She was taken aback. "What's so funny?"

"I'm trying to imagine you being all gentlemanly, dressed up in a suit and tie and asking if anyone would like some more tea or waltzing with chicks in frilly dresses."

She snatched a stick from the ground and whacked him upside the head.

"Ow! Hey!" he stood up, grabbing another stick and blocking another blow. They both got a few good whacks in before their sticks had snapped too much to be feasible weapons.

The trumpet sounded and they rushed back to their tents in the waning light, laughing and discussing tomorrow's prank.

As they parted Gilbert stopped abruptly. "Roderich?"

Elizaveta turned to look at him. "Hmm?"

"… Thanks." He stuck out his hand and she took it, smiling.

"No problem."

They shook once before he added, peering at her. "You know, you kind of remind me of someone I used to know…"

Her stomach clenched in fear, but he shook his head. "Nevermind." He hissed his unique laugh. "You'll see the awesome me tomorrow then, and we'll have a rematch."

She snorted and started walking back. "If you say so."

* * *

><p>A few weeks passed. Ludwig worked them harder than ever, especially the four of them, but they grew stronger with it. He never quite figured out how every one of his water canteens seemed to be infested with frogs. They played some sort of trick every other night, and to her surprise, Elizaveta actually came to enjoy being with them. Her and Gilbert were now evenly matched in swordsmanship, and spent the entirety of the sparring sessions dueling only each other. Each won almost exactly half the battles, and so they refused to fight anyone else until one gained the upper hand.<p>

One particular morning when they all felt more wiped out than usual, they decided to use one of their pre-planned pranks.

As they were lining up for their daily 'warm up,' Antonio happened to trip on a particular loose wire. He stared with a shocked expression as the supporting tent pole connecting to the wire fell over. The tent collapsed in on itself, and then somehow tugged on the wire of the supporting tent pole next to it. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch helplessly as the chain reaction spread throughout the entire camp, until there was not one tent left standing.

Francis looked around thoughtfully and slid up next to Ludwig, pouting. "Oh pooh. I suppose we'll have to skip our run today so we can all set our tents back up."

The General stared with his teeth clenched and grudgingly gave the order, but not before giving a few particularly hard smacks with his crop to more than one fair-haired man.

Once the camp was set to rights again and they were gathering for their sparring session, however, the General stood before them with a sheet of paper and told them to put their swords away.

"Men… we are needed at the front."


	5. Chapter 5

((Sorry for the absence, I was on a trip to Europe for a month and got a bunch of CURTURAR ENRIGHTENMENT and tried to make hetalia references every two seconds. Anyways, this was probably my favourite chapter to write. Just... fyi for those uneducated in the particulars of equine locomotion, horses have four distinct speeds: walk, trot, canter, and gallop, for which the human equivalents are walk, jog, run, and sprint respectively. Also a male horse=stallion, female=mare, neutered male=gelding. Yup yup. Typo correction and feedback plz.))

Elizaveta began to appreciate how strong Ludwig's training had made her. They were on their way northeast to meet up with the primary German forces, and were taking shifts riding and walking their horses so as to not tire them out. They had already been walking for almost two hours, carrying all their supplies, but she was just beginning to feel it in her calves.

"Are we there yet?" Gilbert sighed, only half joking. The black gelding he was dragging seemed to be feeling similarly.

Francis grunted. "Allemagne, it is smaller across than France, is it not? And yet this feels much more taxing-"

"France doesn't have as many mountains though, does it?" Elizaveta pointed out as she started another trudge up an incline.

"Come on guys, cheer up!" Antonio nudged Francis playfully. "We're on our way to fight the Russians, and then, when we win, we'll be war heroes." He leaned against Elizaveta's shoulder. "And you know who loves war heroes?"

She frowned. "What?"

"Ah oui!" Francis grinned. "Les filles!"

"Señoritas!"

Gilbert laughed. "Fraulines!"

Elizaveta rolled her eyes.

"Come on Roddy," Antonio ruffled her hair. "With your looks? You must have a girl back home."

"Ah… no."

"Ohonhon! Then, do you have 'another someone' back home?" Francis wriggled his eyebrows.

"No! I… no! Nothing like _that_." This was going in a potentially very awkward direction. "Uh… what about you?"

Gilbert snorted. "Francis has a different 'someone' every week."

He looked indignant. "… Perhaps, but that is only because I haven't yet found my _special_ someone." He gave a sly grin. "Besides, it's better than you. You haven't even had one someone." He calmly dodged the fist en route to his face.

"Who needs chicks anyways," the albino turned away and marched on. "They can't handle my awesome, and having a permanent one would just slow me down."

Antonio chuckled softly and whispered in Elizaveta's ear. "He's a horrible liar, you know. Ever since we've known him, he's had one girl in particular on his mind, we can tell. And, ever since we've known him, we've been trying to figure out who it is. Seems like he won't even consider anyone else."

He jerked away as Gilbert turned around to glare at them. "And what are _you _talking about?"

"Just telling Roddy about _my_ girl and her beautiful golden locks-"

"You need to shut it about the 'golden locks.' She's not even your girl."

"But she _will_ be. Once I get back. You know, I bet she loves war heroes."

Elizaveta and Francis laughed. Even Gilbert smiled slightly.

"I wish you luck with that then." She told him, and meant it. The three of them… actually weren't all that bad. Antonio continued on with a plan to woo his 'blonde beauty' while Francis gave him some advice. Elizaveta was just wondering about Gilbert's 'mystery girl' when she saw something that seemed out of place in the sky. She clicked her tongue and trotted her mare up beside Ludwig.

He nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "You noticed it too? At first I assumed it was smoke from campfires. The Primary Forces should be waiting for us just over the next ridge. The shape of it though, it's wrong. It's too large and too irregular."

"Your orders, sir?"

He thought for a moment. "Scout ahead and assess the situation. I'll bring the rest up to a trot."

She obeyed, sliding her left leg back slightly and squeezing to urge the mare into a canter. She approached the top of ridge with an apprehensive twinge in her stomach. A smell of burning swept over her. Something was definitely wrong.

She slowed to a walk once she got to the top, inching forward so as not to be a glaring target for any enemies that may be hiding in the town.

As it came in view however, she stopped dead. She looked back at Ludwig, and her expression was enough to set him cantering to join her.

The town was gone. In its place were charred logs and crumbling stone walls. Scatted fires burned low and clouds of ashes blew in the breeze, but otherwise there was no sign of movement.

"There were… this was a town of three thousand innocents, and the army… the cavalry itself was four thousand. How…?"

The rest of the army had reached the ridge, and a silence spread through their ranks.

Ludwig stood in his stirrups and called over them. "Look for survivors! Search everything!" He rode into town himself, looking for any clues as to why the army had not been here to protect it. He quickly realised that it must have been burning for days, and there was little chance of finding paper or even identifiable bodies. A frost covered the areas where the fire had burnt out, and the stonework was stained black.

"Sir!" Francis approached at a trot on his white gelding, gesturing for him to follow. Ludwig let himself be lead to the eastern outskirts of the town, where he gazed at acres upon acres of scattered corpses. The sight of a broken, half burnt German flag flapping weakly in the wind supported by a fallen soldier hit him very hard. They had to stop the Russian army before it reached Berlin at all costs.

* * *

><p>Ludwig altered their course and quickened their pace in an effort to catch up with the Russian Forces. None of them were really in the mood to crack jokes anymore, and so they trotted on in silence.<p>

After a while, traveling ever higher on a ridge, Elizaveta noticed that she could see her breath. Pretty soon after, a light dusting of snow turned into a thick blanket. Their pace was forced to a walk as the horses pushed their way through.

Ludwig gazed around at the white landscape, then turned to address them all. "Be on high alert everyone. We could be nearing-"

He cut off sharply as he suddenly turned and jerked to the side. An arrow meant for his head buried itself deeply into his shoulder. He grabbed at it with his other hand, his face twisting in pain, but managed to stay mounted. Those in the front ranks surged forward and Elizaveta urged her mare to follow. About ten men seemingly appeared out of thin air, cloaked from head to foot in white so as to be nearly undetectable. Most of them were dispatched relatively easily, though one broke off from the group and seemed to be trying to escape. Elizaveta charged after him and caught up quickly, but not before he pulled out a horn and let loose a sharp, quite high-pitched blast. She silenced him, but it was too late.

She turned in horror to see the rest of the army staring at her, then one shouted and pointed past her farther up the ridge. She followed his gaze to see, at the very crest of the ridge, a very tall, silver haired man on a shaggy muscular horse.

Was that… could that be Ivan Braginsky? Head of the Russian army? It certainly seemed so, as a moment later the entire crest was covered by men on similar horses. Her heart dropped to her stomach. They were vastly outnumbered.

Ludwig cleared his throat, and Elizaveta turned again to see that he had pulled out the arrow and wrapped the wound with a torn piece of his uniform. "You are great men, every one of you," He said steadily. "I'm sorry that it's come to this, but if we die today, we die for Germany. We die for all the free countries. We die for our families. We die with unyielding courage in our hearts. However, though the enemy numbers more than us, it is not numbers that win a war. You are all extremely skilled, and if any one of you takes out less than fifteen Russians I will double your laps around the camp."

Elizaveta almost smiled. Almost. Her stomach was clenched quite painfully. The rest of the soldiers formed up around her, Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis pulling up beside. Their eyes fixed on the ridge, a quiet understanding seemed to pass between them.

Elizaveta dropped her eyes to the snow. She never thought it would end like this. In battle, sure, but not in utter defeat, failing as the last hope of… maybe the world if General Braginsky got his way. Her mind wandered aimlessly to some of the things she would have liked to do before the end. Even if she didn't die, it was sure that most of the army would. Her friends…

She noticed the fallen trumpeter lying in the snow beside her horse, and vaguely wondered why he had blown such a high note. It was unusual for a signal, as lower notes travel farther. Perhaps he knew the rest of the army was close enough. Or it could be that…

Her eyes widened as she came to the realization. She hastily dismounted and grabbed the horn off the body.

Gilbert looked at her curiously. "What are you… Roderich?"

He stared for a moment as she galloped past him to the front, then out into the open.

"Hold your positions!" Ludwig yelled. She paid him no heed and charged for the top of the ridge.

Ivan raised his hand and the shaggy horses poured downwards like a wave, headed straight for her.

Just a bit closer…

Ludwig ordered the advance behind her as well. Ivan was getting quite close now.

Finally, she reined in and grabbed the horn from her belt. Taking a deep breath, she blew into the horn as strongly as she could, sending a low, booming note to thunder off the mountains. The echoes bounced back and reverberated through her bones. Her mare spooked and bucked her off, galloping back to the German ranks. She landed unhurt the snow, watching as cracks started forming in the white face of the mountain looming above them. She should probably get going now.

Ivan managed to stay on his bucking horse and roared as he saw his army begin to be consumed by the growing avalanche. He kicked at his horse and charged for Elizaveta, drawing his sword.

She stumbled through the snow, trying to put as much distance as she could between her and the Russian general, but his horse was accustomed to snow. Elizaveta whipped out her sword at the last second to block a blow that would have decapitated her. He rode past, trying to turn his horse around, while she quickly sheathed her blade again and continued running.

There were scattered rock outcroppings up ahead, and most of the German army was climbing as high up as they could. The horses were long gone, galloping down the narrow trail to the base of the ridge to find shelter.

She leapt onto one of the rocks just as the avalanche hit her. It whipped her legs to the other side painfully, but she kept a firm grip and pulled herself up. It was a good thing too, as just beyond the trail up the ridge was a cliff that dropped to the valley below. If she hadn't grabbed the rock in time…

She looked around to see Ludwig safe on another nearby rock. Francis was on one not too far away, and she thought she could see Antonio. Where was-

Ludwig suddenly called out in fear, she and followed his eyes to where Gilbert had been bowled over by a particularly violent wave of snow. His left arm was whipped back and slammed into one of the other rock outcroppings. She heard the snap from where she crouched.

With no hesitation, she flung herself off her island and into the river. Gilbert was being pushed towards the edge of the cliff, unable to fight the current. She steered herself desperately in his direction. The edge was getting closer… she was almost there…

He saw her and reached out his good hand… and dropped over the edge.

"GILBERT!" she screamed and leapt after him, grabbing his hand and positioning herself to fall as close to the cliffside as possible. She hit the ground hard on a smaller ledge below, and was almost yanked off when he fell past her, missing the ledge entirely. She cried out in pain as her shoulder was almost dislocated, but planted her feet and used his momentum to swing him back up, until she could grab him by the collar and pull him back against the rock wall. They crouched there, breathing hard as the snow continued to pile up around them.

* * *

><p>Elizaveta thought she was dead for a moment. Everything was white, and yet dark. Then she heard voices, and felt something warm beside her, and then there was light in the white darkness. She saw a hand appear through the light, and grabbed hold of it, clutching the warm thing to her side as she was pulled up and out of the darkness.<p>

Excruciating pain exploded through her arms, her chest, her sides, and her legs. She longed to let go of the warm thing, it was heavy, but for some reason she couldn't. Not until she was laid safely on the ground.

Her eyes adjusted to the light and she saw blood red eyes.

"Hey," she said weakly.

"Hey," came the reply, in much the same tone.

Then the eyes went away and she was being carried by something very solid, and there was another voice, and it was speaking to her.

"Herr Roderich, you are the most insane man I have ever met."

He started to shake and held her tighter. She felt something wet hit her cheek.

"Thank you for saving my brother." His gruff voice was no more than a whisper.

She smiled and laid her head on his chest, and the world went dark again.


	6. Chapter 6

((AHAHAHAHA DONE. This one's just chock full of drama and Gil being a jerk and italics weeee. Typo correction and feedback plz.))

* * *

><p>Elizaveta woke in an unfamiliar tent. Everything hurt, but it was a dull kind of pain that she could deal with. Groggily, her mind ran through the events of the previous day and tried to make sense of them. Gilbert was safe. Ludwig was safe. Everyone else was safe. Good. She slowly became aware of hushed, but angry voices just outside the tent. She rubbed her eyes and tried to wake herself up more fully, when a sudden jolt of horror struck her through the chest. She was bandaged. She was bandaged just about everywhere and she had not done it herself. She got up hurriedly and grabbed her uniform. The doctor… she had to find the doctor before he-<p>

The tent flap was suddenly flung open. She froze as Ludwig looked her up and down, his expression turning from anger to disbelief. She dropped her uniform as he grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the tent. She stumbled on her injured legs and fell to her knees in the snow. Forcing back the lump in her throat, she looked desperately up at him, his expression now unreadable. Soldiers who had finished packing their horses had started to approach, wondering what was going on.

"General, I can explain, I-"

A muscle in his cheek twitched. "I am not your General. You are not part of this army. You have deceived your commanding officer and impersonated a national representative. These are acts of treason. You are most definitely _not_ Roderich Edelstein."

She squeezed her eyes shut and bent her head low, hugging herself against the cold. "No." Her voice came out as a whisper. She looked up and spoke louder. "No. My name is Elizaveta Héderváry. Roderich is my friend, and unfit for battle. I did it to save him. It was the only way. Please-"

"Elizaveta-"

She glanced to the owner of the voice. In the crowd that had gathered were her three friends. Francis and Antonio were alternating between staring at her and each other with shocked expressions. Gilbert was completely frozen, his left arm in a sling, his mouth slightly open from saying her name, a name he hadn't heard in years. His expression was one of incomprehension and pain, like he had just been slapped in the face.

Her heart dropped to her stomach. She had never meant to lie to him. She had done this for Roderich. She had never really meant it to go this far…

She looked into his eyes, willing him to understand, to understand that nothing else had been a lie. After a moment he dropped his gaze and turned, wandering back to disappear in the crowd.

Utterly defeated, she blinked back tears and looked back to Ludwig. He had also been watching his brother, and when he looked back to her a slight flicker of recognition crossed his sharp features, then was gone.

He closed his eyes. "You will be tried for high treason, for which the penalty is death."

She dropped her eyes to his boots, but he spoke again, in a quieter voice. "However, you were a… good soldier, and you saved my brother's life. We are now even."

She jerked her head back up in surprise, but he was already walking away. "Move out, men!" he called loudly and the crowd dispersed to mount their horses. Francis and Antonio hesitated, looking at her worriedly, still in shock, until another demanding yell sent them running.

Elizaveta watched as the army rode off, searching for white hair against the equally white snow. He packed his things and got on his horse very slowly. So slowly that he was the very last in the line of soldiers heading off down the mountain to Berlin. He didn't even urge his horse on when he mounted, but sat motionless in the saddle until the others had disappeared from Elizaveta's view down the incline. Finally, he clicked his tongue and the horse moved to follow the others. Not once did he look back.

* * *

><p>The silver haired man kicked at the wall of snow, and it collapsed to bury his legs. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, until he saw a flicker of daylight through the powder. Clawing at the hole, he pulled himself free with a grunt.<p>

Standing, he took in the destruction around him. His horse lay dead and half buried a few meters away. Swords and spears stuck out of the landscape at odd angles, which was drastically different from the landscape of a few minutes ago. Wrapping his scarf more tightly over his face, he trudged slowly through the snow until he found one of his soldiers. He knelt down and felt his pulseless neck. Looking around again, he saw no sign of movement.

He let out a roar that broke the silence, echoing off the now bare mountains. He was angry. He very rarely got really angry. He usually enjoyed these games, whether he won or lost, but this man, this _one man_ infuriated him. His army had been massive, he had been so close, and he had lost to _one man_. Everyone was just so _weak_. He clenched his fists and spewed curses under his breath, then stopped.

No, it was not over. He could still do this, he only needed a few soldiers. He had razed every town from here to Russia, and now there was nothing standing in his way to Berlin. The German army believed him dead as well, so it would be that much easier for him to infiltrate the city. If he could just get to the palace, he could take the Kaiser. He could turn him to his cause, or appoint a new one, and under his rule everything would be better. Germany would stop trying to fight him and ally with Russia. Once Germany turned, the rest of the world would be easy. They would do things their way, and everyone would be happy. There would be peace. He only needed a few soldiers…

He ran through the powder and called out as loudly as he could. Not _everyone_ in his army could have been defeated by mere snow. They were all Russian in some way.

Suddenly there was movement. A hand waved feebly, the rest of its body below the surface. He pounced on it and clawed at the snow around the arm, freeing it and pulling the man into a hug. It was one of his lieutenants, Toris. He was obedient and smart. This was good. He didn't seem to be overjoyed to see the identity of his rescuer, however, and shrunk back when Ivan released him. It didn't matter, Toris would do what he said.

He turned to look for more, and jumped back a full meter in fright.

"Hello, brother." She stood, her long hair rippling slightly in the wind, an identical silver to his own.

He closed his eyes, returning his breathing to normal. Of all the people to survive… no. This was good too. Natalia was strong and determined. It was good.

The three of them continued to search, and found two others: Eduard and Raivis. Both very obedient as well. He could do this. They could still win.

* * *

><p>Elizaveta continued to kneel in the snow long after the German army had gone. Eventually, her horse, who had been left behind, realized that it had no food and nowhere else to go. It made its way over to her and buried its cold muzzle under her arm. This woke her slightly from her state, and she raised a hand absentmindedly to pet its neck.<p>

What was she supposed to do now? She thought about it for a long time. The only real place she could go was home, she supposed. Technically, she had accomplished what she had set out to do. The army wouldn't call on Roderich anymore, who, in writing must have been dishonorably discharged if Ludwig had kept the secret. She had also managed to wipe out the Russian army with almost no German casualties. She had done more than anyone could have expected of her. She would go back to Roderich now, go back to… cleaning the house… and cooking… like before. It was unlikely that she'd ever see Francis, Antonio or Gilbert again, never play any more pranks on Ludwig… Not that it mattered anyways. Gil would never trust her again.

Had she actually _liked_ Gilbert? More than Roderich? Roderich was her partner for everything, and Gilbert was annoying, obnoxious, and constantly fighting with her, and yet, for some reason, she actually _enjoyed_ being around him. They made a good team when they were fighting too. She had fun with him. When was the last time she had had fun with Roderich?

Her stomach felt completely devoid of substance, though she wasn't hungry. Finally forcing herself up off her knees, she gathered the rest of her few possessions left in the snow and mounted the horse, turning towards Austria.

As she was about to urge it forward, she heard a strange sound echoing off the mountains. She stood up in her stirrups and searched the landscape. It had almost sounded like a voice…

She suddenly saw, in the distance, an unmistakably tall, silver haired man, his long grey scarf trailing in the wind. Ivan Braginski was alive. Other Russian soldiers joined him, and they were walking west. They weren't giving up. The Germans thought they were dead, that they had won the war. They were probably celebrating. They had no idea…

She tightened her bandages and spun the horse around. She wouldn't be able to catch up in her state, but it was a three day ride to Berlin. She would have to be healed by then.

* * *

><p>Elizaveta rode into the capital city, looking around tiredly at the empty streets. Heading in was she thought was the direction of downtown, she began to hear the first sounds of celebration.<p>

Both sides of the wide road were packed with people, cheering and excited that peace had come at last, as they thought. Elizaveta made her way through to the center as the crowd parted to let her mare pass. She tried to shake off her weariness and appear confident. She still had no idea how she was going to convince them that they were in danger during the celebration of the end of the war. It was Gilbert's help that she needed the most, but he-

"Make way for the heroes of Germany!"

Ludwig rode forward, stoic as ever, but those following seemed unusually somber. Especially for a celebration. She caught sight of Antonio and rode over.

His mouth dropped open. "Rod- uh… I mean… what was your real name?"

"Elizaveta," she said quickly. "Now listen, Toni, I need your help. I-"

"Wha- what are you doing here?" Francis trotted up beside them as well. "If the General sees you-"

"It doesn't matter! Listen, Ivan Braginski is alive and he's coming – he's probably here already – with some of his soldiers and-"

"Ha! What are you trying to get out of it this time _Lizzie_?"

She looked around for the head of white hair.

"Gil? Please, you have to believe me-"

He gave a humourless laugh and shut his eyes tight. "You know, I thought it was you. For a long time, I thought it was you. But then I thought, no, that was impossible, and my mind was just projecting onto this random guy what I _wanted_ to see. My best kid friend… my only kid friend… that just, just up and left one day, nowhere to be found no matter… no matter how hard I searched for her. And there was no way she could be here dressed as a guy again. No way. And if she was, she would tell me, right? Because she was my friend, right? She could trust me, right? Man, I'm such an _idiot_." He slammed his fist down hard on the saddle and his horse gave a bit of a start.

"Gil, I wanted to tell you… If anyone else found out-"

"You think I wouldn't have kept your secret?" he glared at her.

"No! Gil, I-"

"I trusted _you_, didn't I? I trusted 'Roderich,' and then I find out that 'he' was lying to me this entire time. And you! Where did you go? You never thought that I might have wanted to _know_ where my thought-to-be best friend had disappeared to? For _years_? I thought you were _dead_."

"I had to-"

"Forget it! I don't even care anymore. Just… leave. Just go." He turned to urge his horse on faster.

Elizaveta took a deep breath and grabbed him roughly by the collar, almost pulling him off his horse. "You know what? Shut up and listen to me for two minutes!" she yelled in his face.

His eyes went wide, and a few of the other soldiers in the vicinity turned to listen, including Ludwig.

"I'm sorry, I was wrong, I don't hate you, I do trust you, but right now I don't care if you hate me, because it's not important right now. _What's left of the Russian army is going to assassinate the Kaiser. Right now._ I don't care if you never want to see me again, but right at this moment I need your help to save Germany. So get over yourself and put up with me until we win. Then go do whatever you want. Okay?" She shoved him back on his horse and turned her own towards the palace. "Besides, you owe me."

Francis and Antonio pulled their horses up to flank her with a nod. Ludwig stared at her, then he and a few other soldiers followed suit. "You're sure about this?"

She nodded. "I saw it with my own eyes."

"… Alright."

After a moment, Gilbert turned too. "Fine," he said grudgingly, avoiding her eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

"Come with me." She urged her mare into a gallop for the palace.


	7. Chapter 7

((Merry Christmas! Sorry for the super-long wait! I had a pretty big block with this. But I finished this for Christmas. Yessss. Anyways, I couldn't find much information about a few things so I'll probably go back and fix this once I actually _go_ to Berlin over Spring Break and know what I'm talking about, so I'm sorry for inaccuracies for now… I had way too much fun with this, though I feel slightly bad for the Baltics. I'm sorry Lithuaniaaa))

* * *

><p>Elizaveta continued along the parade route at a canter, about twenty soldiers following her lead.<p>

"So, say I believed you this time," Gilbert grunted angrily, keeping pace with her, "What's your plan? You _do_ have a plan, right?"

"Nope." Elizaveta allowed herself a slight smile. "That's why I needed you. The two of us used to be experts at getting out of tough scrapes when we had no idea what we were doing."

"... Great."

"Hey, try thinking of it another way, instead of saving the Kaiser, we're sabotaging Braginski."

Antonio gave a chuckle from the other side of Gilbert. "We _are_ quite good at sabotage, si?"

They abruptly halted as they approached the front gate of the Reichstag. Ludwig rode forward to speak to the guards about letting them through. They hesitated in the face of the general, but didn't seem to want to budge. Elizaveta started to get anxious as she heard his voice rise. Of course the guards would never believe the word of one soldier, even if they didn't know it was an ex-soldier and a woman. _But they were running out of time._

Suddenly there was the loud clinking of steel and sounds of a scuffle from behind the gate. The guards whirled around, but Ludwig pushed past them impatiently while motioning for the others to follow.

Elizaveta urged her horse inside and came into sight of the enormous, ornate front doors just as they slammed closed. A few bloodied bodies lay sprawled nearby.

Ludwig and a few others immediately rushed forward, dismounting, to try and pry the doors open with their considerable strength. After a few minutes without success, Ludwig yelled at his soldiers as well as the guards to form a perimeter and prevent any attempts at escape. This time, they hurried to obey without question.

Elizaveta turned to the trio of men behind her as they dismounted, the only ones ignoring the order. "So, how are we getting in?"

Gilbert and Francis both grinned and looked at Antonio. The Spaniard clapped his hands excitedly, grabbed a coil of rope off his horse, and ran off towards the grand building.

Francis answered her look of bewilderment as they jogged after him. "The reason we're able to get into anything is largely due to Toni's neat little skill of being able to climb just about anything in existence."

She watched in awe as Antonio reached the base of the building and kept going, hardly missing a beat. He found handholds easily on the magnificently carved walls, and continued on upward until he was able to pull himself up to a sitting position on a window sill three stories up. He kicked his legs and waved down at them, then unsheathed his sword and smashed the hilt into the glass behind him.

Elizaveta, Francis, and Gilbert waited as he disappeared from view for a moment, then returned to throw the rope out for them, which he had obviously tied to something sturdy inside. The three of them made it up quite quickly due to Ludwig's vigorous training, and set off at once down the hall to look for the living quarters.

As they sprinted unceremoniously past incredibly beautiful room after incredibly beautiful room, Elizaveta wracked her brains to come up with some kind of plan as to what they would do when they actually found the Russians. They passed the body of another guard every now and then, which made them quicken their pace.

Too soon, Gilbert abruptly put out an arm to stop them in their tracks, a finger to his lips. Elizaveta peered cautiously around the corner he was indicating to see three of Braginski's soldiers standing protectively in front of another set of doors even more grand than the ones around it.

The four of them ducked back around the corner to discuss possible strategies in a low whisper. It was four against three, but they didn't want to cause a huge scuffle at the risk of alerting whoever else was inside.

Elizaveta was distracted from her thoughts as Francis suddenly straightened and looked down the hallway curiously. His lips were pursed and there was an odd glint in his eye.

The two other men stopped their frantic whispering as well to watch as the blond wandered slowly down the hallway and opened the closest set of doors. His face broke into a wide, mischievous grin.

"I have a plan."

* * *

><p>"Voila!"<p>

A few minutes later, a beautiful, golden-locked, long-lashed, graceful woman twirled in her magnificent floor-length dress in front of Elizaveta's eyes, asking for input. At least, if Elizaveta hadn't known any better, she would have bet her sword that it was a woman in the dress.

But she did know better.

And it was more than a little unnerving.

The room Francis had found seemed to belong to a woman, maybe the Kaiser or Chancellor's wife or daughter, who was very fond of clothing and other accessories. Without another word, he had rushed to the bathroom to quickly shave his stubble and apply makeup, then proceeded to raid the occupant's closet.

"Francis, cut it out with the eye-batting okay? It's creeping me out," Gilbert echoed her own thoughts.

Francis only raised an eyebrow and grinned more seductively. The albino grabbed a book off the shelf he was sitting on and chucked it at him.

The blond dodged it easily and grabbed Antonio's arm, who could hardly contain his amusement at the situation, and pulled him into the closet. A few moments later he emerged in a flamboyant red dress with an added long, brunette wig. A slightly more modest version of his goofy grin on his face, Elizaveta couldn't help thinking that he looked rather cute.

Francis flung another dress at her. "Put it on over your clothes, so we can change quickly once this is done with."

After she pulled it over her head he brought her a wig as well, seeing as her hair was still only about five centimeters long. He helped to pretty her up a bit more as she tried to call back her experience from living with Roderich that military training had erased.

She sat still as Francis applied a bit of makeup. "How do you know so much about-"

He smiled and winked. "I have a little sister. I love dressing her up to look pretty for the boys."

She caught Gilbert watching them. "Wow Lizzie, you actually look almost as much like a woman as they do."

Elizaveta flung the book he had used before, which he did not manage to dodge.

When Francis had finished with her, doing the best he could in the shortest amount of time possible, he then looked up to Gilbert and beckoned him towards the closet.

The albino sat there a moment before he realised what his friend was asking of him.

"Oh-ho-ho-ho no. No. You girls can play dress up all you want. You are _not _getting me in there. Not even for this. No."

Francis looked over at Antonio, pouting. "It's tragic really," he said dramatically. "It seems our poor Gilbert is simply not as confident in his masculinity as we are, so much so that he feels threatened by the act of wearing a dress for five minutes to save his country." He glanced back over at the man in question, cocking an eyebrow.

Gilbert's mouth dropped open to let loose an angry retort that never escaped. He clenched his teeth as Antonio and Elizaveta burst out laughing, his face going red. He chucked another book at the blond (which he again dodged easily) and stomped over to the closet.

They laughed even harder at the look of pain on his face when he came out a few moments later, Francis still tightening the back of his corset. He glared daggers at the two of them, trying in vain to keep the hair from his long blond wig - the lightest Francis could find - out of his eyes.

Elizaveta had to wipe the tears of mirth from her eyes and breathe a few times before she could take a good look at him. He _did_ actually look pretty, though still nowhere near as feminine as Francis and Antonio. The fact made her laugh even more.

"Oh, shut up already," he growled, face going red again. "Let's get this over with."

Francis headed towards the door, stuffed chest thrust out. "Follow my lead."

As they came around the corner, in sight of Braginski's men, Francis started to giggle and coo flirtatiously, pointing over at them.

The soldiers raised their weapons to the alert when they heard the noise, but lowered them slightly when they saw the 'women.'

Francis skipped over to them in a disturbingly good girlish manner and peered innocently at the one with brown hair. "Bonjour, beau garçon!"

"Halt!" the soldier ordered, somewhat half-heartedly. "You can't go past here."

Elizaveta and the others approached, trying their best to look innocent.

"Mais je ne veux pas aller là-bas. Je veux rester ici avec vous," Francis cocked his head to the side, flipping his hair slightly and tugging gently on the man's sleeve. It was clear that he hadn't understood a word, but that didn't stop a light blush from spreading across the soldier's cheeks.

Antonio copied Francis, sliding up to the tall blond one and playing with the tassels on his shoulder pads, giggling between spurts of Spanish.

Elizaveta smiled sweetly at the last, shortest one, moving to touch his hair. He jerked away, though more out of shyness than suspicion.

When they were all close enough, Francis snapped his fingers. They each clapped a hand over their soldier's mouth, then pulled a dagger and held it against their throat. Gilbert moved to collect their swords, then set to tying them up with the coil of rope and gagging them with handkerchiefs. They struggled in their bindings after the daggers were removed, but Gilbert only yanked them tighter.

"I don't see why we don't just kill them," he muttered.

"We can use them for information later, and I don't want to make even more of a mess of the place," Francis reasoned, removing his dress.

Antonio grabbed a key off the tall one and unlocked the door, quietly pushing it open.

"Here we go..."

* * *

><p>((Just fyi, if you wanted to know what France says but are too lazy to Google translate: ''Hello, handsome boy!'' and ''But I don't want to go over there, I want to stay here with you.''))<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

((Sorry about this chapter in advance. It's pretty much one long action sequence, and I suck at writing action sequences. I tried my best. ^^; I like Gil/Liz being snarky and cuddly and romantic in their own way, but I like them even more when they're just being total bamfs together. So yeah.))

* * *

><p>The large, extravagant room was somewhat cluttered and very dark. The only light splashed a dim yellow over the walls, silhouetting everything between the four soldiers just entering and the lights of the city that shone through the multiple doors opening to the large balcony on the other end. Among the silhouettes on the balcony were the figures of two quite well-built men, the taller gripping the other firmly by the collar of his suit and talking in a low, falsely cheerful voice.<p>

"We have taken your Parliament sir, your soldiers cannot enter. You have lost. It would be _wise_," his voice turned to a hiss, "if you would put a bit more consideration into my offer."

The Kaiser shook in his grasp, not out of fear as Ivan was accustomed to, but out of anger. "The people of Germany will never submit to_ communism_," he spat.

The Russian sighed heavily and released his grip. The Kaiser stumbled to the ground, his leg appearing to have been injured.

"It seems I will have to find a replacement after all. How disappointing." He straightened and unsheathed his sword.

Elizaveta jerked forward, intending to sprint the length of the room, but froze as something bright flashed an inch from her face. She turned, as the men standing around her did, to see a dagger embedded in the wall behind them.

Antonio pointed, and the rest followed his gaze to see, emerging from the shadows of the room, a slender, elegant-looking woman with very long silver hair. She held a dagger in each hand, and many more were strapped to her body on belts. Her eyes were like ice as they passed over the soldiers, and Elizaveta felt goosebumps on her arms.

Francis stepped slowly in front of Elizaveta and unsheathed his sword, eyes on the woman. "Allez-y. Help the Kaiser. We'll deal with her," he nodded to Antonio.

Elizaveta took the hint and shoved Gilbert towards the balcony, not looking back as she heard the clang of steel on steel, another dagger being deflected.

Gilbert sprinted forward, unsheathing his sword, and blocked the blade in line for the Kaiser's throat.

Ivan was surprised only for a moment, then knocked the new meddlesome opponent backwards and off his feet with a blow from his other arm. He twirled the sword around, changing his grip with a glint of anger in his eyes.

"_You will not take away my victory!_" he slashed down viciously, Gilbert only narrowly avoiding the blade.

Elizaveta rushed at the tall man from behind. He flung his arm back wildly, his steel slamming into hers so forcefully that it was almost knocked out of her hand. Her arm was jarred painfully, but she gritted her teeth and tightened her grip pushing back at him. He was _very_ strong and she couldn't keep it up for much longer, but at least she had given Gilbert a chance to recover.

Ivan noticed again though. He seemed to always know when someone was sneaking up behind him. A moment before Gilbert connected, the Russian twisted his sword against Elizaveta's, forcing her to concentrate on keeping her grip, and then quickly delivered a kick to her abdomen with his heavy boot before she had time to react. He then pirouetted almost gracefully to counter Gilbert.

Elizaveta was thrown backwards to slam into the wall with more force than she could have imagined possible, pain exploding through her torso and a few drops of blood escaping her lips. She gasped air like a fish, clutching at her stomach, the breath having been completely knocked out of her. She closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure as quickly as possible, air restarting its circulation with shuddering breaths.

She shakily got to her feet and retrieved her sword. At least Gilbert was doing better now. They had learned their lesson about getting too close to him, and so Gilbert was now doing much more evading, keeping him engaged, but out of range of his arms and legs.

She glanced over at her other friends as her breathing started to return to normal. Antonio had picked up some of the thrown daggers, and he and the woman were maneuvering the short blades spectacularly. She was slightly more skilled than he, but Francis was also darting in with his sword whenever an opportunity presented itself. The woman was tiring. They would defeat her soon.

Elizaveta steadied herself and once again approached Ivan, waiting for an opening and trying to catch Gilbert's attention. She locked eyes with him, glancing to the Kaiser and back, giving him a meaningful look. He understood immediately. He ducked to the side and she slipped in next to him. Their blades began their dance, perfectly in time with one another, covering any area left open by their partner. Ivan defended himself skillfully, but it didn't matter. They were only trying to gain as much ground as possible and keep him away from the Kaiser.

She had missed this, probably more than she would have liked to admit to herself. The past few months of sparring had brought back her old skill with a blade, but also her attunement to Gilbert. This was how it had been like when they were younger. They had fought each other so often that they learned how the thought, and could read their next movements easily. This meant that most of their battles ended in stalemates. This also meant, during the times when they were faced with a _mutual_ enemy, that they understood how the other fought so precisely that they could act as a single unit.

She felt almost guilty about how much she was enjoying herself in this moment. There were lives at stake and Roderich would _certainly_ not approve, but _oh_ how she had missed this. She suddenly realised, now, in the heat of battle, in her true element, how very little she cared about Roderich's opinion of her. It was strange, considering the past few years of her life had been spent forcing herself to be proper and ladylike for his approval.

She could no longer stifle her laughter as she deftly ducked under Gilbert's arm to strike a blow from the other side. Her and Gilbert's blades smashed into the opposite sides of Ivan's at almost the exact moment, effectively pinning it between them. The Russian's jaw clenched as he tried to pull himself free, but they held tight.

Elizaveta turned to see Antonio with a dagger at the other woman's throat while Francis bound her hands behind her back, a look of the utmost fury on her thin face.

They had driven Ivan far enough far enough away now… "Antonio, Francis, go!" she yelled, jerking her head towards the balcony. They hesitated for a moment before Gilbert yelled for them to "Get going, losers!"

Francis pulled the woman over to the balcony while Antonio tied the rope he had saved tightly around the banister. The blond slid down to the open courtyard below with the woman, followed a moment later with the brunette helping the Kaiser.

As soon as he saw his intended target disappear over the balcony, Ivan roared and flung Gilbert and Elizaveta's swords away with all his considerable strength. He rushed to the edge and Elizaveta dashed after him. He grabbed the base of the rope just as her sword embedded itself in the banister, severing the line so that it drifted lazily to the ground four stories below.

She stood for a moment, panting while watching the Russian warily. He gazed down at his lost quarry, who was now being aided by Ludwig's soldiers. All the anger and fury at being thwarted he had shown in the battle was suddenly gone from his face, but the expression that now replaced it was somehow indescribably more frightning.

"You beat me," he said softly, making no move towards her. Was he… smiling?

"It's over," he continued, now looking up at her with an odd expression, almost innocent. "I can't do anything now. I lost. I lost to _you_."

He drew himself up to his full height, raising his sword. She backed away slowly.

He laughed. It wasn't a cold laugh. It wasn't a cruel laugh. It wasn't even an insane laugh. It sounded like a laugh of genuine amusement, as if from a child.

Elizaveta froze, uncomprehending.

He tilted his head, still smiling. "I have nothing left to lose now. I guess I'll just kill the one who took it all from me."

The sword raised above her, and Gilbert suddenly swung to meet it. "Wake up, moron!" he growled, and she tried once again to fall into step with him.

The three blades flashed in the light of the city as before, but it was different this time. Previously, Ivan had been partially blinded by his anger and his attention had been on the Kaiser. This time there were no distractions. He was completely focused, his only goal being the end of their lives, and his blows were significantly swifter and heavier than before. It was all they could do to block now, and make sure he didn't get to close. What was this man?

He suddenly crouched, Elizaveta's blow streaking over his head, and swung a leg out to sweep Gilbert's feet out from under him. He landed with a painful _thud_ on his tailbone just as Ivan continued spinning with his momentum to elbow Elizaveta hard in the back. She pitched forward, landing on Gilbert, who immediately grabbed her around the waist and flung her aside. She turned to see Ivan's sword embedded in the floor where she had been a moment before. The blade dd connect however with Gilbert's uniform, effectively pinning him to the ground.

Ivan took advantage of the fact. He dug the sword in deeper and kicked out. Gilbert threw an arm up to protect his face, but it happened to be his left arm. It had been wrapped tightly in bandages with a light splint to keep it in place while it healed from his injury on the mountain. The heavy boot connected with a _snap_ as the splint broke, and Gilbert almost screamed with the pain.

Elizaveta quickly swung around in her sitting position and kicked out at the back of Ivan's knees. His legs buckled, ad she darted forward to grab Gilbert's uninjured arm and yank him away. His uniform ripped down the shin, but he scrambled to his feet before Ivan could recover. He picked up his sword again while trying to keep his other arm from jostling too much, but Elizaveta pulled him away.

"_Run_."


	9. Chapter 9

They ran.

Elizaveta flung open the door they had entered and sprinted down the hallway, dragging Gilbert with her. The rooms flashed past and she ducked into the first one she saw that had what she was looking for. She slammed the door behind her and quickly started pushing a dresser in front of it.

Gilbert cradled his bleeding arm, panting from the sprint. "What'd you make me run away for? I can still hold a sword, and I _never_ run away from a fight."

Elizaveta pushed another chair across the room to join the barricade. "We're not running away," she grunted, "We're regrouping. We have to come up with a plan. I thought you liked strategy."

"Tch. Alright, alright."

She opened a drawer and pulled out a shirt that she ripped into strips, then held her hands out to Gilbert expectantly. "Come on then."

He reluctantly extended his arm. She wiped away the blood and reset the splint.

"Ow!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby." She continued to re-wrap it as tightly as possible to make sure it would stay in place.

As soon as she was finished, he snatched his arm back and rubbed it tenderly.

"… Thanks."

She put her hands on her hips. "You're welcome," she said testily. "Now let's-"

_Crack._

Wood splintered as the tip of a blade appeared through the door behind them.

Elizaveta looked wildly around for anything of use. She riffled through drawers, cleaned out shelves, desperately searching for anything that could possibly give them an advantage. Gilbert followed suit as the hacking at the door grew more frenzied. The hole was getting bigger.

"Think! _Think!"_ Elizaveta demanded frantically. "We have to think of something! There is _always_ something! We just have to-"

"Liz! Shut it! I know _exactly_ what to do." He grinned evilly and pointed. On the bed-stand sat a bottle of vodka and a pipe.

She wanted to punch him in the face out of sheer exasperation.

"We are _not_ drinking and smoking away our last moments, Gil!" she yelled. "You're such a-"

He clapped a hand over her mouth. She was about to bite it when he released her. "_Lizzie_. Shut up and listen to _me_ for two minutes, okay?"

He grabbed the bottle of vodka and removed the cap. "Like_ this_." He took a leftover strip of fabric from the ripped shirt and stuffed it into the neck of the bottle, then picked up the matches from behind the pipe.

"… Oh."

"Yeah. See? Give me some credit, okay?"

"Alright, alright. You're not a _total_ idiot."

He folded his arms. "Admit it. I'm _brilliant_."

"Just throw it already!"

"Not until-"

A large section of the wooden door suddenly splintered as it was kicked inwards. Elizaveta ran to pry open the door on the other end of the room as Gilbert lit the fabric and hurled the bottle at the barricade.

Neither of them looked back as the flames exploded into existence, completely consuming the wooden furniture. Elizaveta had purposely chosen a hiding place with an alternate escape route. She and Gilbert bolted from the room and down another hallway running parallel to the previous.

They slowed down a reasonable distance away. Gilbert glanced back at his handiwork and grinned, looking at Elizaveta expectantly.

"Okay, okay! Don't look at me like that," she stifled a laugh. "You're brilliant. Happy?"

He gave her a playful nudge. "Yes."

She shoved him back. "Forgive me?"

"For what part?"

"… All of it."

He pursed his lips, apparently deep in thought. "… Yeah, okay. You owe me a _big_ favour someday though."

"Deal."

He grinned. "I totally had a legitimate excuse to set one of the most important buildings in Germany on fire. That's _awesome_."

She snickered, watching as the flames licked the edges of the door frame and started to spread down the hall towards them.

"We should probably get out of here," Elizaveta remarked.

"Yeah, prob-" Gilbert cut himself off mid-sentence. "Oh my- _Verdammt!"_

"What?"

But she saw. A figure had appeared, emerging from the flames, throwing off the thick, heavy coat he had used for protection.

_"Nien!"_ Gilbert ran at the Russian, accenting each vicious hack at him with a furiously screamed word: _"Why. Won't. You. Just. Die?"_

"Gil, wait!" Elizaveta tried to grab at him as he ran past. "The support beams-"

Maybe it was Gilbert's sheer determination and will. Maybe Ivan had been injured or disoriented from forcing himself through the fire. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, the albino had somehow caught the Russian off guard and managed to twist his sword completely out of his grasp.

It clattered to the floor a moment before an earsplitting _crack_ caused all three of them to completely forget what they were doing and look up. The flames had eaten through one of the massive wooden beams that spanned the hallway, holding up the roof. It fell.

The three scrambled desperately out of the way as the flaming ceiling came crashing down around them. Elizaveta dived to the side to avoid a particularly large piece of roof, but was pinned painfully by her leg by the accompanying debris. She grunted, trying to pull herself free once heavy objects had stopped falling from the sky. Luckily, it had started to rain and the fire in the now-exposed hallway was starting to die down.

"Liz? Liz!" The call seemed muffled and far off. Her eyes watered as she tried to spot any movement through the increasing smoke and dust.

"Here! I'm here!" she croaked as loudly as she could. Her leg wouldn't obey her no matter how forcefully she tugged on it. She thought her ankle was most likely sprained.

She him approaching, finally, and breathed a sigh of relief. Until of course she looked up and realised it wasn't Gilbert.

"That's convenient." She redoubled her efforts to free herself as he peered down at her curiously. The Russian was bleeding from a wound on his side, as well as one just above his left eye. The large coat he always wore was gone and Elizaveta could better see his physique: thick and muscular, but condensed, like a bear. He was weaponless now, but she could only watch as he strode over and ripped a section of pipe from one of the ruined walls.

Elizaveta pushed herself up as much as she could with one hand, the other gripping the sword that she had been so desperate to keep a hold of even as the building collapsed around braced herself and awkwardly managed to deflect the pipe en route to her skull.

"GILBERT!" she yelled angrily. "Little help here?"

"I'm coming, woman!" came the equally angry reply. She saw him shove a of wall aside and unsheathe his sword as he ran at Ivan. He blocked the pipe and aimed a fast kick to the other man's bleeding side. As his foe crumpled, Gilbert wedged his shoulders under the debris trapping Elizaveta and forced himself to stand. The pressure on her ankle slowly released and she scrambled to her feet, careful to not put too much weight on her injured leg.

She braced herself and blocked another blow from the heavy metal pipe. Gilbert struck at him as she defended, and this time Ivan was not quick enough to avoid it because of his injuries. The Russian's left shoulder was slashed open.

Ivan retaliated instinctively as he stumbled backwards, clutching at his wound. The pipe came around again and connected with Gilbert's ribs. He dropped his sword and fell.

Elizaveta took the opportunity of Ivan being injured, unstable, and distracted. She leapt off her one leg and tackled him to the ground. She stomped a foot on his wrist to make him release the pipe, then forced his arm painfully behind his back to immobilise him.

"One more move and I break your arm," she growled. "Gil, help me tie him up."

Gilbert got shakily to his feet, coughing, and made his way over to her. He unfastened his belt and used it to bind Ivan's upper arms to his body. Elizaveta did the same with his lower arms.

"We should kill him," Gilbert said quietly, with barely contained fury.

Ivan glared at her as she gagged him, then pulled him to his feet. "I know," she said angrily. "But he's a high-ranking General. We can use him to call off the other attacks on Germany."

Gilbert clenched his fists. "… Fine," he said shortly. Keeping a hand firmly around one of the belts on Ivan's back, he shoved him roughly forward to make him walk. He grabbed Elizaveta's arm with his other hand and looped it around his shoulders, supporting her as she stumbled along beside him.

They made their way out of the building like that. Ivan was handed over to Ludwig, and Gilbert and Elizaveta joined Francis and Antonio to have their injuries attended to. They were each presented with medals of honour by the Kaiser himself before collapsing, exhausted, into their hospital beds.

"This is yours, by the way."

Gilbert reached over from his cot to pass her something, then turned over so that his back was to her and settled down to sleep.

Elizaveta recognized it as the paper he had taken from Ludwig's tent so long ago. It was an old photograph. She remembered her mother taking it when she was about seven years old. It featured her and Gilbert, both dressed as boys, and a three-year-old Ludwig. They each had a wooden sword and almost identical wide grins on their dirt-stained faces. Elizaveta smiled to herself and slipped the photo under her pillow before falling asleep.

* * *

><p>((THE END jk there's an epilogue I'll upload in a few minutes but oh my goodness I'm finally finished my first ever fanfiction I'm so happyyy Thanks SOOOOO MUCH for everyone who reviewed and favourited this. It gave me the confidence to continue. This is the first thing I've written that I've actually finished too. Thanks again for taking the time to read it, and I hope you got at least a bit of enjoyment out of it! :D))<p> 


	10. Epilogue

((There we go! Thanks again everyone! Warning: multitudes of awkward!Gilbert))

* * *

><p>Elizaveta stepped carefully out of the carriage on to her bound foot and pushed through the front gate to her house. Roderich's house. Somehow it didn't feel very much like hers anymore. It was strange, but after only a few short months a ratty tent seemed much more familiar and welcoming than the place she had called home for the past few years.<p>

She noticed that the plants around were slightly overgrown and a few weeds were poking through. As soon as the gate opened, she saw Roderich. He was sitting contentedly on the porch, sipping tea. He, like the garden, looked perfectly respectable only to the untrained eye. The closer she looked, the more worse for wear he seemed. His eyes were tired, his hair ruffled, tie slightly askew, collar not quite flattened, among other little things. He had been worrying. That much was obvious.

He looked up when the gate clicked shut.

"E-Eliza?" His fingers slipped and the teacup shattered on the deck. He didn't look down. Suddenly he was across the lawn and his arms were wrapped around her, squeezing her tightly. She had never seen him like this before. It seemed like he would never let go. An intense wave of guilt washed over her.

"Roderich… I'm sorry, I-"

"I know why you did it." His voice was very quiet. "I was… so afraid, Eliza. So afraid that you would… because of me… and there was nothing I could do…"

She hugged him tighter. "I'm so, so sorry for making you worry." She buried her face in his shoulder. "But I'm okay, Roderich. I'm okay."

He sighed heavily and released her, straightening his tie and trying to regain his composure.

"I hear you were instrumental in the defeat of the Russian invasion. Congratulations." He paused, eyeing the medal on her chest, still frowning. "You… you won't do anything like that again, will you?"

"… No," she said quietly. "No, of course not."

* * *

><p>A week passed and Elizaveta fell back into her usual routine: sending Roderich off to work, cooking meals, cleaning the house, tending the garden, and reading books, among other household things.<p>

She sighed as she pruned the vines on the upper balcony. She had been fine like this before, so why did her life feel so empty now? Because she had gotten a second chance to experience for herself all the things she had read in the books that sustained her? It was a one-time thing though, obviously, she told herself. No one could live like that every day. It wasn't practical or respectable. It was just an opportunity that she had taken, and now it was over.

But… hadn't she kind of lived like that every day when she was younger, and Gilbert right there with her?

She sighed again and went back to pruning, trying to banish those thoughts from her head. She knew she had been dwelling on it too much when she thought she saw a head of white hair a ways down her street.

She blinked a few times then froze, clippers still in the air. The white hair was still there and it was coming closer. It was the three of them. They were walking down _her street_.

Well, Gilbert seemed like he was being dragged by the other two. They didn't look up, didn't see her on the balcony, but made their way over and stopped in front of the front gate. Francis said something to him, and then Gilbert was shoved inside, Antonio forcing the gate closed behind him. He tried to pry it back open, but eventually gave in and walked up the path to the house. He slammed the brass knocker three times. Elizaveta stood rooted to the spot.

Roderich answered the door after a moment. A few minutes later, he appeared at the door to the balcony, clearing his throat to get her attention.

"Eliza, there's a very rude, scruffy-looking man at the door that says he's here to see you," he said with disgust. "Shall I send him away?"

She blinked a few times. "Oh… uh, no. No, it's okay. He's an old friend. Just give me a moment."

He looked at her suspiciously, like she couldn't possibly have any old friends from _that sort_ of unruly riffraff and there must be some other reason for this affront to propriety on his doorstep. He raised his eyebrows as she passed him, heading for the stairs, but didn't comment.

Elizaveta opened the front door. Gilbert stood there, nervously scratching the back of his neck. He went slightly pink when he saw her, but plastered on his usual arrogant smirk almost immediately.

"Well you got girly." He looked her up and down. "What, not even _one _bloodstain on that frilly dress of yours?"

She was too confused to quip back properly. "What are you doing here?"

His face fell. "I just… uh… " He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Are you okay? I mean, you took a beating too…"

She shook her bound ankle. "Still healing, but I'm fine." She looked at him suspiciously. "You didn't come all the way here from _Germany_ to ask about my sprained ankle."

"Uh, no… well yes, but-"

She rolled her eyes. "Just _tell me!_" He was acting really weird.

"I… Francis and Antonio were wondering if you wanted to come with us," he said quickly.

Elizaveta gaped at him. "Wha-"

"Luddy and the Kaiser agreed to offer you a full-time position in the army if you wanted it, you would get paid well, and you would… stay with us. If you wanted to, I mean."

She stared at him for a moment, then leaned back against the door frame. She had been staying with Roderich in the first place because of her financial issues. This would mean that she would no longer be a burden, and she couldn't even deny to herself that working in the army and fighting alongside Gilbert and his friends was the thing she wanted most in the world right now. She looked back at him, still thinking about the prospects of this opportunity.

"I mean," Gilbert shifted uncomfortably, the pink flush returning. "I think think it would be… awesome if you would."

Elizaveta bolted back down the hallway, meeting Roderich at the foot of the stairs and pulling him into a tight hug.

"Eliza! Wha-"

"I'm sorry Roderich. Thank you so much for everything you've done for me."

"Wha-"

"I'm leaving, Roderich. I got a job, and I'll send some money back to repay you, but I won't be staying here anymore." She released him. "I want this, okay?"

Roderich stared at her critically for a few moments. "You're sure?"

She nodded.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly. "… If that is what you wish, I am happy for you."

Gilbert poked his head around the corner. "Lizzie?"

"One minute!" She dashed up the stairs to her room and stuffed every article of clothing she owned into a suitcase, along with her books and a few other possessions. She didn't have very much, since she wasn't one to keep more than she needed like Roderich.

She pulled her suitcase back down the stairs and grabbed Gilbert's arm, dragging him with her.

"What are you doing?" he stumbled forward.

"I'm coming with you, idiot!" she laughed.

"… Really?"

"Bye Roderich!" she shut the front door behind her.

"Are you serious?"

She rolled her eyes and set down her suitcase to hug him around the neck. "As long as you promise to be my partner. I'll save your butt if you save mine."

He tentatively returned the hug. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Awesome." His face was hot.

She laughed and kissed him on the cheek, then grabbed her suitcase and ran down the path to her other friends. They had been watching.

Antonio wolf-whistled and moved to grab her bag, while Francis threw his hands in the air out of exasperation.

"About time!" the blond glared at Elizaveta. "Honnêtement, I thought I would go insane if your sexual tension continued for much longer."

Gilbert joined them reluctantly a moment later, his face almost the colour of his eyes. For once, it seemed like he didn't have much to say.

The four of them started their walk to the carriage out on the main road. Gilbert reached out and grabbed her hand, refusing to look at her. She smiled and squeezed back.


End file.
